After all the stuff was brought in from the truck, and the stamping on the floor had ceased, Blaze turned to her.
“Welcome home, my wife, he said.”
“Thank you, my husband,” she responded.
Not until she lit the kerosene lamps did she notice dark things on the bed. She carried the lantern to the bed and held it high so she could see. Were these large bugs, creatures of some kind? She looked more closely and saw red – and white. She bent down. She looked carefully. They were rose petals. Rose petals sprinkled all over the bed and onto the floor. Fresh rose petals. When had he had time to come all the way out here to do this? She sat the lantern on the night table and picked up several of the petals. She lifted them to her nose. The smell was enchanting. Blaze walked up behind her and ran his arms around her waist. He bent his head down near her ear, as though others might be listening. He whispered in a voice she had never heard before.
“I will love you on this bed until the morning.”
Though the evening chill of this July night had not yet set upon them, he made a fire in the wood stove. She sat on the side of the bed watching, then kicked off her shoes.
“Don’t,” he said, softly, telling her with his eyes not to take off her clothes.
As the fire caught the small logs, and sent an orange glow flickering across the room, he pushed off his moccasins and placed them neatly together slightly under the bed. He undressed himself one garment at a time, folding each piece of his clothes in an almost ceremonial way, laying them across one of the chairs. He loosed his hair and looked down into the fire. The glow of the fire made the grey in his hair shimmer like threads of silver. His skin glowed a deep bronze. In two or three short steps he was standing in front of her. He ran his fingers up through her temples and into her hair and he pulled her mouth to his, kissing her long and deeply. He reached around her neck and unclasped the lock of the squash blossom necklace and laid it gently on the little table next to the bed. With skilled hands, he reached beneath the hem of her blouse and lifted it up and over her head, folding the blouse, in much the same way as he had folded his clothes, and he laid the garment next to his. Her bra unsnapped with ease. That too, he folded. Her breasts fell downward as two large mounds. He lifted them as high as they would go, held them for awhile and breathed in, then softly kissed each one, before kissing her lips again. He unsnapped the button at the side of her white slacks and eased her into a sitting position on the edge of the bed. Bending down on one knee, he lifted her little shoes and sat them neatly together beside his, beneath the bed. From her knees he pulled down her slacks, folded them and placed them on the chair. With warmed hands, he slipped all of his fingers around her and into the back of her panties. He held his hands there with fingers spread wide and he lifted the flesh within them. Raising her to her feet, he breathed deeply again and slipped the panties to the floor. She stepped out of them. He folded them, and laid them on the chair. With hands feeling easily for the pins holding her hair, he removed them and placed them on the little table. Gently he lifted the Zuni earrings from the holes in her ears and laid them next to the squash blossom necklace and the hair pins. He said nothing. She leaned into him and surrounded his waist with her arms. He laid his head atop hers and wrapped one arm around her shoulders; with the other he held the back of her head and clutched her to his breast. He started to sway from side to side, rocking her in that motion. They stood like that for minutes. Then he lifted her off the floor and into his arms and laid her gently onto the bed. She felt the roses cool on her back and waited for his direction. He kissed her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her shoulders. With tender hands, he gathered rose petals and rubbed the sweetness on her breasts, lowering his mouth onto each one, suckling at the tan, round orbs, nursing them, drawing circles with his tongue. He kissed the depression of her upper stomach and his lips moved down to her navel. His tongue felt warm as it coursed in a circle around this depression and it dragged down into that mat that protected something so precious. He slid his hands sideways beneath her heavy buttocks and raised her ever so slightly toward him. His face disappeared from her view as the sensation of electricity drove through her body. Remaining there, he working the area, tasting, drawing his tongue into places for which she had no description. And he lingered there, for a long time, biting gently, pulling, stroking. An agonized cry – long, slow and mournful poured from her lips as she reached for his hands and pulled hard on them. He pressed his face farther into the darkness as her feet drew up near his shoulders, and he continued his work. The muscles in her calves tightened, then her knees and thighs. Her moans now came as coughs until she stopped breathing. Her body vibrated all over. She clawed at his hands. He never stopped; he never let go. She shook violently and let out a cry through her open mouth. “Oh dear God,” she said, pushing the words from deep in her stomach out into the air. She shook again, convulsing uncontrollably, then loosed her grip on his hands and fell silent. He raised up to look at her face; to see what he had wrought. It was the expression of a child sleeping safely and securely in its mother’s arms. It was the contented face of a woman after the pain of child birth had subsided. It was his woman, his wife, to whom he had just given a supreme pleasure.
He eased himself up next to her and laid his head on her shoulder. She kissed him on his forehead, then his lips, as she let out a deep sigh. He was content to save himself for later.
“There are many hours left in this night. We will not sleep this night. I will love you all night, until the morning’s rays lay across us,” he moaned lustily. And he kept his promise. Again, and again he moved within her. He lifted her upon him at times. He lay behind her. He lay upon her back as she rested on her stomach. But at no time did they sleep. He would make this marriage night the hours she would remember when time and old age robbed them of their strength. And he would see her in his eyes always as his beautiful, seductive, willing bride.
CHAPTER 26
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The Courthouse Find
The newlyweds didn’t leave immediately for their honeymoon. There were things to attend to. Blaze had the cabin and his business issues. Familiar with handling travel arrangements, Lynette took it upon herself to put together a last minute romantic vacation. She was accustomed to a certain amount of comfort, but she had no experience with wealth. She knew she could spend whatever she wanted for their honeymoon, but her practical side – call it her Scottish frugality, prevented her from being excessive. Wherever she planned to take them, it would be fun but reasonable in price. After all, they were in the process of building a rather expensive, forever home. It made no sense to her to run through obscene amounts of money on the honeymoon. And since it was Blaze’s money, she dedicated herself to being a careful steward of that resource.
Due to the short timeframe within which to arrange dates, places and times, she found that certain tour companies were booked all the way till October. Lodges were generally out of the question, after all this was high season in Alaska.
“Hey Babe, would you consider a cruise?” she asked Blaze as he walked into the office.
“I works for me if that’s what you want,” he said pleasantly.
Celebrity, Royal Caribbean and Princess plied the frigid waters of Alaska but the seven-day cruises were just too short. Most of the cruises were round-trip from either Seattle or Vancouver, British Columbia up to Glacier Bay then back to the port of embarkation. Lynette had visited the cities of Juneau, Ketchikan, Sitka and Skagway three times and though she wanted to stop in these ports again, for Blaze’s sake, she also wanted him to have the Canadian experience in the Yukon. She wanted the cruise itinerary that visited Hubbard Glacier and ended in Seward, Alaska. After much wrangling with herself, and taxing the patience of a highly competent travel agent, she chose the Holland America, Zaandam ship which connected with a 12 day land tour. So a cruise-tour would be the way they’d spend their honeymoon. Now the rub. Nothing is ever easy! A veteran of five previous cruises, Lynette knew that
the higher up on the ship the suite was, the more likelihood there was of feeling the rolling and tossing of the ship if they hit rough seas. In the past she’d avoided any sense of sea sickness by reserving staterooms on lower levels, and always – always - mid-ship. The problem was that the only accommodations left were upper level veranda suites – high up on the ship, and expensive.
“Not to bother you,” she told Blaze, “but all we can get is a pricey veranda suite. I wanna keep this trip within reason, but it’s a suite or nothing at this late date.”
“And the problem is?” he asked her quietly.
“Cost,” she replied.
“Again, the problem is?” he asked with a twinkle.
Having been in the navy, Blaze understood the physics of ship- board motion. He assured her that with the dual thrusters on the large ships, motion was kept at a minimum even in rough seas.
“A regular cabin could feel like tight quarters,” he interjected. “We need a little more space.”
So she booked the July 25 sailing.
Lynette wanted to make sure the puppies, still unnamed, would be strong enough for Hawk and Maurice to take care of while she and Blaze were gone. She showed the men, (who’d been handling animals most of their lives- duh!), how to mix the pablum-type feeding mixture the vet gave her, and how to feed and stimulate them. Their eyes wouldn’t be open for another week, so she wanted them watched well. Suzie Q ran down to the bunk house when “her” puppies were moved there, so the hands had to make sure food, water and bowls were there for her too. Rusty roamed down there, but wandered back to the house, more content to lie on the deck in the shade or hog the couch in the living room.
Blaze sat down with Alberto, the general contractor and construction foreman, going over the next phase of construction on the house. Inspectors must come in at certain points to make sure everything is being built to specification and safety codes. Inspections, as much as anything, can slow the construction process. There was no rush. Blaze just wanted everything done right the first time.
“I’m building this log home for my wife,” he mentioned to Alberto several times. “I want it to be right.”
While the newlyweds waited for their sailing date to arrive, Blaze busied himself with the ranch and his business transactions; Lynette worked tirelessly with Alberto to select certain styles and types of materials to be used in the construction while they were gone. She even selected alternate items, should the first choices go out of stock, or not come in sufficient quantities. Neither Blaze nor she wanted to get a call in the middle of Alaska from the site saying this thing or that was not available. The only decisions they wanted to make were when to crawl out of bed and what was next on their sightseeing itinerary!
There were discussions about various types of slate flooring, and Lynette wanted an inlaid teepee placed into the floor in front of the Great Room fire place. That design had to be drawn, cut, and inset. As a couple, they agreed that the entrance doors, which faced the East, should be recycled from other old, New Mexico homes. And if found, they wanted pieces cut out of each side of the two doors, and the shape of hands cut in, backed by heavy glass. The idea was that when the doors were closed, the two hands would appear to clasp together, not like a religious depiction, but as warmth, comfort and security. It was a symbol of their relationship.
Lynette took Blaze with her the next time she had any information for the young black workman. He was pleased to meet Blaze and complimented him on his wife. “Don’t too many strangers just step in and try to help,” he said earnestly. “I’m gettin’ a court date in Lubbock soon. I’ve filed my paperwork for a hearing and blood tests. All I have to do is scrape the $800 together. It’s a shame I have to do this, but I can’t go on much longer with all this hanging over my head, paying out almost everything I get, for them that ain’t mine,” he admitted. “I love all those kids, but most of ‘em ain’t mine,” he said woefully. Blaze reached in his back jeans pocket and pulled out his check book. He wrote the man a check for a thousand dollars.
“No sir, I cain’t take that from you,” he said instantly, holding his hand up in the stop position. “I’m a workin’ man. I’ve got a good job with this company. I can pay my way,” he insisted.
“Yes you can,” Blaze insisted. “You go get your business straight, then buy yourself some protection,” he said, joking, but only a little bit.
The young man stared long at the check.
“I’ll pay you back, sir,” the young man promised. “I will.”
Lynette gave the young man a big hug and said, “Y’all build us a good house now, ya’ here,” in her feigned Texas accent.
Lynette knew why Blaze did what he did. It was kindness, pure generosity. He wanted to loose that young man from the pain he, himself, had suffered all these years. He made sure Alberto and some of the other work crew observed the interaction, and instead of shaking his hand, as they left, he bent over and hugged the young man! And that put a stop to all the gossip.
Aaron planned to be at the ranches most of the time, with Clare flying in each weekend. They’d have the house to themselves and get a real feel for what married life would be like there. Clare would serve as mistress of the manor, a task for which she was more than suited. And she could check on the puppies.
“Aaron,” Blaze called out from the entryway of the house. “I’m heading down to Arapaho County land office. I’d like you to come with me if you can spare the time.
“Hell, I ain’t doing nothing special right now. What’s up?” he replied jovially.
“You know what I told you Lynette overheard about some sort of land deal that probably affects me, well it can’t be about anything other than that strip of land near the tribal lands you and I have had our eye on. I wanna get a handle on what’s going on there before we leave on our honeymoon. With Izzard and Tomahawk Mason buddied up together, there’s something we don’t know about that strip. We need to sniff around and figure out if we’re about to be screwed. Neither one of them is worth shootin’ and I don’t like what Lynette heard.
Aaron and Blaze pulled into the parking lot of the City County Offices of Arapaho County around 10:30 that morning and went directly to the Land and Tax Assessor’s Office where they visited with Mr. Hardisty, the County Clerk, who knew them well.
“Come on in my office,” he beckoned to the men. After he shut the half-glass door, he turned around abruptly.
“There’s sure been a lot of inquirin’ about that piece of land here lately. Why are you all so interested, he inquired?”
Before Aaron could answer, Blaze asked, “Who are the other people who’ve been so interested?”
“Do you know a P.P. Izzard?” the clerk asked with a distrustful tone in his voice.
“I’ve met him. You might say his reputation proceeds him,” Blaze laughed quietly.
“Then you are aware that some of his business, shall we say, deals did not bear the mark of the highest of business practices,” the clerk said slyly, with an eyebrow raised.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Aaron interrupted. “Hardisty, between just us, he’s as crooked as the trail a sidewinder rattlesnake leaves in the sand.”
“Well, in my position I have to be careful about characterizing citizens, but I believe you do have the measure of the man,” the clerk replied. “It seems that Mr. Izzard is one of only a small number of people who know why that strip of land has no one’s name on it, at least none legally.”
“What does that mean,” Blaze asked with a frown on his brow.
“Mr. Snowdown, some of the oldest records we have in the courthouse show that piece of land to be an ancient Indian burial site, and on top of that there is a small cave with incredible ancient artifacts that the State and University don’t want disturbed. When asked, they hesitate to admit that the cave even exists. In addition to all that, there is a hidden opening to a small underground acquifer which could furnish fresh water to a large part of the northern area of our county if ever w
e come under enemy attack. The United States government, the Arapaho County government, the Tribal government, two universities and individual citizens who claim Spanish land grant rights – everyone has tried legally to get that piece of land.”
“Then where the hell are the records,” Aaron demanded.
There was a long, embarrassed pause before Mr. Hardisty, red faced, responded. He cleared his throat. “We have been unable to relocate most of those documents since shortly after Mr. Izzard began his, shall we say, inquiries.”
“Are you sayin’ that some son-of-a-bitch just walked in here and walked back out with valuable court documents?” Aaron said, clearly angry.
“Well, Mr. Whitehall, we do not know for sure that the documents are missing. We only know that they cannot be found at this time, and because there is an element of national security involved, I have been instructed not to make public the misplacement of these records, nor to openly accuse anyone. Do you understand what I mean?” the clerk said, looking at both Aaron and Blaze with a telling glare.
“So, if I found some way to purchase that strip in good faith, I’d spend the rest of my life tied up in litigation, trying to use it or ever sell it again. Moreover, I would risk having it taken away from me, without compensation. Is that what you’re telling me,” Blaze asked, sucking his bottom lip.
“Yes sir, and as I see that you are a Native-American, if your intent was to deed it over to the Tribal Government, the other interested entities would drain every dollar from the coffers of the reservation, if they tried to hold on to it. This piece of land could bankrupt the tribe. I cannot, gentlemen, impress on you how valuable that piece of land is in terms of its historical significance, or its National Security relevance. It is, in my opinion, not worth owning. Oh, and by the way, we have never had this conversation. For the record, this visit had to do with the property you already own around Timberon, Mr. Snowdown, nothing more! You are here to check on your property, I believe,” he said with a stony face. After an awkward pause, Mr. Hardisty concluded the conversation.
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